


Fallen

by ElegantButler



Category: Max Headroom (TV)
Genre: Gen, Kidnapping, Revenge, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 03:04:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12147261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElegantButler/pseuds/ElegantButler
Summary: After Bryce is abducted and tortured by a man seeking revenge for Blipverts, he decides he will not allow himself to suffer ever again.





	1. Terror

MAX HEADROOM: FALLEN   
CHAPTER 01: Terror

Finishing up the tasks he’d been given for the day by Cheviot, Bryce decided to take a rare trip outside his lab and go to Zik Zak’s local “Know Chow” diner rather than microwave a burger from the Network’s vending machine. It was almost six and the cafeteria was closed for the day.

As he made his way there, his mind was on the following day’s projects. He had been thinking of a way to create a non-lethal version of Blipverts. As he thought about it, he noticed that he’d reached the end of the sidewalk. He looked up to check the crosswalk. It was red so he pressed the button and waited.

Joseph Maulden had been following Bryce ever since he’d seen him a block away from Network 23. He wasn’t surprised that Bryce hadn’t seen him. “Self-centered little brat.” he muttered as he coasted along the road in his car. He continued following until Bryce stopped at the crosswalk. Then he honked the horn.

Bryce turned and looked at the man in the car. He didn’t recognize him, but the man seemed to be beckoning to him. Bryce pointed to himself in a ‘who me?’ gesture and the man nodded.

Bryce approached the car with some caution.

“Can you tell me where World One is?” Maulden asked.

Bryce stared at him in disbelief. World One was one of the top four TV networks in the city. It’s skyscraper wasn’t nearly as tall as Network 23’s, but you could spot it in a crowd of buildings.

He turned and pointed toward it. As he did so, Maulden got out as if to get a better look. Maulden moved closer to Bryce, then suddenly grabbed his arm and yanked it behind his back, putting his other hand over Bryce’s mouth at the same time. 

As he wrestled Bryce into the back of his car, Maulden felt a sudden jab of pain as Bryce bit him, hard! He punched Bryce across the face hard enough to knock him unconscious, then shoved him into the back seat. He fetched some Duck tape from the trunk and wrapped it around Bryce’s wrists, binding them together. Then he taped the boy’s mouth shut, threw a pillowcase over his head, taping it shut around his neck, and closed the door.

 

Bryce woke a few minutes later and began struggling. The pillowcase was smothering him and the feeling of near-suffocation was sending him into a fit of panic.  
“Quiet down back there!” Maulden shouted. “If you don’t keep silent, I’ll pull over and shoot you.”

A moment later he added. “Though it might be better for you if did.”

 

Bryce fell silent, but his mind was racing with terror. Those last words had scared him badly. 

He wondered what would be so bad that death would be preferable.Pain? Torture? Bryce doubted he’d survive either for very long. He would have to escape as quickly as possible. The problem was how. He was already secured with strong tape and he could neither see nor scream.

The car stopped and he heard the front door open and close. A moment later, the back door opened. Bryce tried to kick the man who had opened it. He got in one good kick, then was thrown down and kicked in the midsection. His grunt of pain was drowned out by the tape that covered his mouth.

He struggled as his arms were repositioned above his head and he felt his wrists being tied again, this time with a thick chain. He heard a metallic click and felt himself being hoisted into the air by his wrists.

“Hello, Bryce,” Maulden said as he ripped off Bryce’s t-shirt. “You don’t know me, but I know all about you. You were the one who created Blipverts. You remember them, right? Those little advertisements that killed people?”

Bryce realized that this was about revenge. And that meant this man was crazy and would surely do anything he felt was within his rights to do.

“I bet you want that pillowcase off your head, don’t you?” Maulden asked.

Bryce nodded.

“Sorry,” Maulden told him. “But those Blipverts struck my mother without warning, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. You won’t know what I’m going to do, or when I’m going to do it.”

Bryce whimpered softly, his fear growing.

“Scared?” 

Bryce nodded, fearing that terrible repercussions would come if he did not answer.

“Good.”

Bryce could hear him muttering about cutting or burning, both of which struck Bryce as being very painful options. He tried to struggle, but his feet were dangling above the floor. Even when he tried to stand on tip-toe, his feet did not touch the ground. Helpless and scared, he decided he never wanted to feel this way again. 

Maulden lit a cigar. He leaned against a pillar, smoking thoughtfully as he watched his prisoner dangling by the wrists, only barely aware of what might happen to him. He looked at the knife sitting on a nearby window ledge and smile. He picked up the knife and went over to Bryce.

Bryce screamed angrily into the gag as the knife left a long thin cut down his upper right arm. He realized that this man didn’t want him dead. At least not right away. These cuts were meant to be painful, not fatal. But that didn’t matter to him any longer. All he cared about was getting free and getting some revenge of his own.


	2. Changes Within/Escape

Chapter 02: Changes Within/Escape

After his kidnapper had cut his arm, the man seemed to lose interest in Bryce. Bryce waited for what seemed like hours for the next torment, but nothing happened. It was almost worse than the suffering. Bryce’s arm had bled a bit, but the cut hadn’t been deep enough to let too much blood, so it had stopped after a couple of minutes.

He arched his back in sudden pain when the man’s cigar tip was crushed near his lower spine, the gag muffling another would-be scream. His inner rage grew as he thought of the pain he wanted to inflict upon his tormentor.

He had never had thoughts like this before. They worried him in the beginning. Was he going insane. He had heard that such a thing happened quite often to those who suffered torture. He tried using the techniques he’d learnt at college to calm his mind for tough tests, but his fear made it too hard for him to concentrate on any part of the routines.

But with each slice of the knife, with each burn, with every lash of the whip against his bare back and smashing of another chain against his stomach, the feelings of anger, rage, and vengeance grew in him.

Bryce could imagine the ruin his body had become. The would surely be scars. Of that he had no doubt. Scars from the burns, cuts, and welts that had been inflicted upon him. And there would be other scars, too. Those which could not be seen, but which were as painful as the wounds that had been dealt upon his flesh.

If Maulden had known what was happening in his captive’s head, he might have killed him on the spot. But he did not know and he continued to torment Bryce, each injury fueling the hate that was growing within.

After some time, he spoke again.

“I’m betting that I’ve broken you by now,” he told Bryce. “I don’t see you struggling or hear your muffled screams anymore.”

Bryce felt himself being lowered to the ground.

“Oh, we’re not through yet,” Maulden told him as he removed the pillowcase from his head and the gag from his mouth. “But I know you won’t scream now. And I want to see the tears fall from your eyes when I take off your hands.”

Maulden unchained Bryce’s wrists, freeing them in order to make the soft flesh accessible to whatever device he intended to use to carry out his threat. He turned and began to talk to himself.

“Do I burn them off, saw them off, or chop them off?” he asked himself, deliberately loud enough for Bryce to hear.

But Bryce wasn’t broken. And in the few minutes that Maulden had been turned away, the young genius had risen to his feet and grabbed the car keys from the table. He ran out of the building, Maulden not even noticing his escape until he heard the door slam open.

Maulden ran after Bryce, but the teenager had a head start, and the car.

Bryce got into the car and tried to remember watching Blank Reg drive the pink bus that was Big Time television during the time of the Security Systems incident. He quickly remembered what to do and sped off toward Blank Bruno’s place in the Fringes.


	3. Determination

CHAPTER 03: Determination

It was not quite dawn by the time Bryce arrived at Blank Bruno’s a few minutes after fleeing from his tormentor. Bryce was neither aware of this, nor would he have cared if he was. He was too angry to care, and the pain in his back, stomach, and arm was only making that anger worse.

He kicked the door fiercely, half-hoping it would fly open dramatically. It did not, so he gave it another kick.

It swung open, slowly, and a sleep-ridden face appeared in the crack.

“Bryce?” Bruno’s bleary voice asked, “Did you know that some people actually sleep?”

“Lucky them,” Bryce snarled, pushing past his old teacher and walking into the warehouse-turned-apartment.

“Bryce,” Bruno began, turning to scold his former pupil. He stopped, however, when he noticed the many welts on Bryce’s back. “Dear god!”

“I need your help,” Bryce told him. “I don’t trust Breughal and Mahler, so I can’t ask them.”

“I’m not going to kill anyone for you,” Bruno told him.

“I don’t want anyone to do it for me,” Bryce remarked darkly. “I need to find someone who can teach me how to do it myself.”

Bruno stared at him in horror. “Bryce, that’s not such a good idea.”

“Why not?” Bryce asked, angrily. “What’s so wrong about ridding the world of a torturer?! You can see what he did to me! That bastard had me chained to the ceiling! He burned me! He cut me! He beat me! The only reason I got away was because the son-of-a-bitch thought he had broken me, so he left me untied and laying on the ground while he tried to work out the most painful way to cut off my hands.”

The thought of such an act made Bruno want to vomit. He swallowed it back and led Bryce over to the sofa.

“Sit,” he said, more as a demand than an offer. He was in full teacher mode now.

Bryce recognized the demand for what it was and sat down.

Bruno pulled up the chair he kept at his computer desk and sat in front of Bryce, taking his hands carefully in his own. A little blood oozed from the cut on Bryce’s arm.

“We need to get you some medical attention,” Bruno said. “But first, we need to talk.” He looked at Bryce and held up his hands. “You almost lost these tonight. It was through your abductor’s sheer stupidity and ego that you were spared that horror. If you try to get revenge, he might get a second chance to detach them. Do you understand?”

Bryce nodded dejectedly.

“I understand you want revenge for the pain you suffered. But taking the law into your own hands is not the answer. So I won’t help you find someone who will teach you how to kill.”

“Sir…” Bryce began.

“I do, however, know of someone who can teach you how to defend yourself.”

Bryce looked up hopefully.

“Her name is Grace,” Bruno explained. “She’s Rik’s bodyguard.”

“Rik can’t defend himself?” Bryce wondered aloud.

“Oh, he can,” Bruno corrected him. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking otherwise. But a man likes to to nap every now and then. And Rik won’t leave his rickshaw unattended. That’s his livelihood.”

“So Grace looks after him and the rickshaw when he needs to sleep.”

“Correct.”

Bryce brightened at this. “Great. So when do I get to meet her?”

“After you’re healed,” Bruno told him. “Right now, we need to get you to the medical center. I don’t want those welts getting infected.”


	4. Calling Carter

CHAPTER 04: Calling Carter

Bruno flagged down Rik as he and Bryce made their way towards the city medical center.

“Rik,” he said. “We need a ride to the hospital. The kid’s hurt pretty badly.”

“Rik,” Bryce asked as he climbed up onto the seat of the rickshaw, wincing as his back touched it.

“Lean forward,” Bruno cautioned. “And your question can wait until your wounds are healed.”

“But…” Bryce began.

“Later,” Rik told him, sensing that Bryce’s question would not be easy to answer.

They reached the medical center and parked on the edge of the parking lot. Bruno carefully helped Bryce down.

“What do I owe you?” Bruno asked.

“Save a puppy,” Rik instructed him, leaning on the vehicle as Bruno led his former student across the parking lot and into the medical center.

 

Bryce felt a sudden wave of dizziness come over him as he reached the receptionist’s desk. Gritting his teeth, he steadied himself. He was not going to pass out! He would not be that weak. Weakness would only put him in danger again. And he would not allow that to happen.

“Do you need to sit down?” the receptionist asked.

“I’m fine,” Bryce told her.

“If you were ‘fine’ you wouldn’t be here and you wouldn’t look like you do,” the receptionist argued logically. She motioned for an orderly.

“Wheelchair,” she instructed. Before Bryce could say anything about it, she turned to him. “Policy. If you’re about to faint, you get a wheelchair. Saves us the bother of treating you for a nasty crack on the head later on.”

Bryce huffed but sat in the proffered chair.

“Dear me!” the orderly gasped. “The kid’s back’s torn up real bad.”

The orderly came around and had a look. “No wonder you’re ready to fall over.” she said, rushing back to her desk. She punched in the doctor’s view-phone code. “Traumatic injury.” she said. “You’d better see this kid right away.”

A doctor came out and went over to Bryce. 

“Look at his back,” the nurse told him.

The doctor took one look and looked over at the crowd in the waiting area, including Bruno;

Bruno stood up and went over to them.

“I’ll call your friends and let them know where you are,” Bruno promised. “They must be worried sick.”

“I’m sure your call will make them feel a whole lot better,” Bryce retorted sarcastically.

“We’d better get those injuries treated,” the doctor said, a tone of urgency in his voice.

“When Edison gets here, who should I say is treating him?” Bruno asked.

“Dr. Edwards,” the doctor told him, grasping the handles of the wheelchair and pushing it through the ER doors.

Bruno went to the view-phone bank in the lobby and sat down in front of one of the cubicles. Tapping in the directory number, he found the listing for Network 23. He clicked a few keystrokes and got into the operator line.

“Max,” he said, hoping that the construct would answer him.

“Hey! If it isn’t the old frog-frog-frog man!” Max chimed in, cheerfully. “So, what can I do for you?”

“It’s about Bryce,” Bruno told him.

Max’s face was suddenly replaced by that of a worried-looking Edison Carter.

“Busy,” the reporter told him, “we’ve got a bit of a crisis here.”

“More so than you know,” Bruno said. “I’m at the medical center. They just took Bryce into the emergency room for stitches and who knows what else.”

“What happened to him?” Edison demanded.

“I don’t have all the details,” Bruno admitted. “Bryce is furious. To be honest, I would have expected him to break down into a sobbing mess in a situation like this. He’s never had to face the violence of this world… well, except the Blipvert effect. But instead of breaking him the torture he apparently suffered…”

“Torture?”Edison asked.

Bruno could see Theora also on the screen, looking mortified at this new bit of information.

“He was…” he paused and then in deference to Theora’s sensibilities, simply said, “he was treated very poorly.”

“By who?” Edison demanded. “I want the person who hurt Bryce in jail.”

“Bryce wants him dead,” Bruno told him. “I told him I’d ask Grace to teach him self-defense so he doesn’t get abducted again. But I’m not going to help him become a killer.”

Edison nodded his approval. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”


End file.
